


Observations

by Deifire



Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: Cuddling, Future Fic, Improper Investigative Procedures, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5224223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deifire/pseuds/Deifire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a quiet moment in which nothing that's happening is actually supposed to be happening, Marshall Teller comes to a sudden realization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observations

This isn’t supposed to be happening.

Dash is sprawled out on top of his own sleeping bag, one arm around Marshall, who’s curled up beside him, arm draped across Dash’s body, head resting on Dash’s chest. And they’re doing nothing. Not fighting, not talking, not investigating, not kissing. (And oh, is Marshall fully intending to have a conversation with his own brain about how weird and messed up it is that kissing is suddenly on the list of activities it’s possible to do with Dash X once he’s alone and in full possession of his senses again.) For now, though, he keeps catching himself drifting in and out of consciousness, which is part of why he’s having such a hard time convincing himself this isn’t a dream.

Because this is definitely not supposed to be happening. Marshall shouldn’t be this close to, let alone feeling this relaxed in the arms of, the most dangerous person in all of Eerie.

But yet.

He glances up at Dash’s face, and can tell by the way Dash’s eyes close for just a little too long from time to time that he’s drifting off, too. If Marshall left now, he’s sure Dash wouldn’t say anything, would just roll over and feign sleep, and act like none of this ever happened next time they ran into each other. But Marshall isn’t ready to leave yet. Despite himself, he’s comfortable, and Dash is warm.

Dash is always warm, actually. And never uncomfortably so, as far as Marshall can tell. This despite the fact that, since Marshall has known him, Dash has spent well over a year wearing approximately the same thing indoors and out in all seasons, which means he’s almost always got too many or too few clothes on than the actual surrounding temperature would suggest. 

Marshall’s always chalked that up to weird alien biology or something, further proof that Dash, whatever Dash is, is something other than ordinary.

And suddenly, in the process of trying to veer right around the concept of Dash with fewer clothes on, Marshall’s train of thought collides with something else.

“Huh.”

He only realizes he’s said it out loud when Dash stirs, sits partially up, dislodging Marshall, and asks, “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just,” Marshall begins, and immediately wishes he hadn’t because he’s already ruined whatever this is and there’s probably no way to explain without sounding completely stupid. “It’s your heart.”

“My what?” asks Dash. He sounds sleepy and confused rather than annoyed, which is at least something. 

“Well, your heartbeat. It’s human. Or human-like, anyway. It’s got the sort of rhythm you’d expect from a normal, human, four-chambered heart, and not like, multiple hearts, or no heart, or, you know, something obviously mechanical or if your heart were structured differently or somewhere else in your body, and I don’t know why or what it means, but I just now realized…” Nope, there is no way to explain this without sounding stupid and he should probably stop trying.

Dash is giving him a strange look. “Like yours, you mean?” he asks. 

Marshall just nods, and he’s not sure what he’s expecting in response, only that it’s not for Dash to suddenly lean over, slip a hand under Marshall’s shirt, and press it against Marshall’s chest.

“Yours is faster,” Dash observes, after a few seconds.

“Huh,” Marshall says. It’s all he can say, because he’s well aware that his is no longer a good example of an average resting human heart rate, but under the circumstances, he’s going to give his automatic nervous system credit for the fact that so far, it’s managed to keep his heart beating at all.

Besides, it’s impossible to make a real comparison, given that Marshall has no idea what the effect on Dash’s heartbeat would be if Marshall were to, say, do exactly what Dash is doing right now.

He decides he should probably test this out. For science.

He’s pretty sure that nothing in this plan actually represents proper paranormal investigative procedure. 

But then again, nothing that’s happening here is actually supposed to be happening at all.


End file.
